Yoga Kills
by binx-349
Summary: If I'd wanted to spend four hours in the hospital I would've just tailed that paramedic. More flirting, less morphine. LukeLorelai, PreSeries AU.
1. Monday Mornings

**Title: **Yoga Kills (1?)

**Rating: **PG-13

**Pairing: **Luke/Lorelai. Pre-Series AU.

**A/N: **Set approximately three years before season 1 and based on Lorelai's conversation with Emily in 1x06. I used a bit of artistic license and a tonne of fluff, just because I can.

**Summary: **"If I'd wanted to spend three hours in the hospital I would've just tailed that paramedic. More flirting, less morphine."

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"I need one of those mugs with 'Yoga Kills' tattooed across it," Lorelai mused out loud as she hobbled across the street, Rory in tow. She swung herself towards the pavement from the road. "In pink," she added. "In case you want to buy me one."

Rory's eyes widened and she grabbed Lorelai's arm holding her back in order to help avoid the cyclist that sped past at that moment in a blur of colour and damp Lycra. She was really hoping to avoid another day in a cold, antiseptic scented hospital. It hadn't exactly been the highlight of her weekend. She'd intended to spend Sunday re-reading Jamaica Inn and working on a biology lab-report, unfortunately that plan had gone out the window. Limpet length analysis and turbulent love stories had just had to wait.

"You're not dead, so it should more accurately be, 'Yoga Breaks Limbs'". Rory secured her book bag on her shoulder and offered a hand to Lorelai as she struggled to get herself onto the sidewalk.

Rory was on a black ice watch, because while Lorelai seemed to have mastered the art of crutch manoeuvres on tarmac, she was pretty sure that considering the weather, keeping her on slip free surfaces was a very good idea. She glanced back over the square cocking her head in amusement at the sight of Kirk dangling upside down from a tree, attempting to take down the last string of lonely-looking fairy lights from its bare branches. Rory grinned, safe in the knowledge that there were people far clumsier than her mother, and that if anyone was going to get into an accident in Stars Hollow today, it would almost certainly be Kirk.

Having your leg in plaster, from calf to mid-thigh was more cumbersome than Lorelai had ever imagined it could be. She had never been one for grace and decorum, not really. Her mother would have loved it if she had been, but that was a whole other issue. She was the slightly kooky, highly caffeinated one that people never really understood, but liked nonetheless. It was a perfectly good role to play as far as she was concerned. Now she could add ungainly to that list of attributes.

"I hate yoga," Lorelai stated with feeling. "It's the Antichrist. Can I kill its people and burn its villages?"

"No."

"A little torture with bamboo shoots? I hear that's very 'in' at the moment."

Rory ignored her question, "You didn't hate it yesterday. In fact, your words as you left the house led me to believe you were taking far too much enjoyment--"

It was the truth. Lorelai had been perfectly good friends with yoga until about 11:14am. Then she'd toppled, sending at least two other yoga-mates tumbling with her, and cursed like a sailor the entire way to the hospital. Then once she was at the hospital she'd cursed some more, until they had her on enough painkillers to knock out a horse. God bless Vicodin.

"Today is today, yesterday, I didn't have a snapped fibula," Lorelai interrupted, waving an arm at herself in apparent illustration.

"Tibia," Rory corrected her and pushed the door to Luke's open.

"Whatever, I need coffee." She groaned and dropped unceremoniously into a red plastic seat, her leg out straight blocking the path to the counter. Trying to fit an almost three foot long length of plaster underneath the table was simply more trouble than it was worth. She had found this out earlier that morning after a battle with one of the kitchen table legs. The table had won, and she had taken a couple of extra painkillers with her first coffee of the morning.

"You're going to trip someone over." Rory warned collecting a couple of mugs from the counter. Someone had to watch out for the health and safety aspects after all.

Lorelai gasped, a smirk spreading across her face. "No. They can jump. It'll be a competition. My money is on Kirk, I bet there's an athlete buried in there someplace. You have any money on you?"

Rory blinked at her, and put the mugs on the table, "Oh boy."

Luke made his way over coffee pot in hand, finally catching sight of the length of plaster about two paces before he would've tripped over it, and probably sent coffee flying through the window and into the street.

"What the hell is that?" he demanded pointing at the offending limb.

"You're so charming," Lorelai drawled, bringing out her best southern accent for the occasion. Making Luke awkward and disapproving was becoming an Olympic sport to her and she'd not known him more than six months. He didn't prove her wrong. Shifting uncomfortably he eyed her leg with definite apprehension.

He gave a long-suffering sigh and rephrased. "That's not what I meant. What happened to your leg?"

"It broke," she smiled at him and stabbed her finger downwards repeatedly at her empty mug. It was amazing how quickly he'd managed to work out Lorelai's crude sign language.

"So I see." He gave her a withering look, stepped over her outstretched leg and filled the two mugs.

"She had a yoga class yesterday," Rory said, by way of explanation. "She gave the person behind her a black eye. I'm banning her from all collective sports from now on." She rolled her eyes at Luke in despair and took a sip of coffee.

"She did exercise willingly?"

Lorelai pulled a face. "I did, and pretzel chick had it coming," she poked Luke experimentally with a crutch, making him jump. "Crutches are one of the more useful side effects of breaking your leg." She informed him with a grin. "Y'know, I learned how to operate a toaster with one of these babies last night. I don't even have to move to make Pop-Tarts now."

He frowned then turned to Rory. "Is it wise to leave her unsupervised when she's like this?" He asked, jerking a thumb in Lorelai's direction.

"No, but I have school, so what can you do." She shrugged, chugged the remains of her coffee and grabbed a muffin. "I'll see you at four, don't break the other one. If you do, I'm not helping you get dressed tomorrow." Rory had it all worked out. If she can't get dressed, she can't go anywhere. If she can't go anywhere, she is unlikely to break anything else. Perfect plan.

"Aaw, but I can't put my clothes on without you!" She called over her shoulder as a parting shot. "Bye, Hun."

Luke rolled his eyes. He may have spent a moment exploring the many possibilities of a half-naked Lorelai in his head. It wasn't a very long moment. His chivalrous side soon reared its head, making him feel oddly voyeuristic. Naked Lorelai was definitely a 'don't go there' thought.

"Food?" He questioned, deciding that saying anything more at this moment might lead to a conversation he really didn't feel like having right now.

"Bacon, sausage, toast, waffles, maple syrup, more coffee." She listed out the order on her fingers, looking up at Luke with a smirk when she was done.

"Your eating habits terrify me, and you have coffee right in front of you." He protested, motioning at the full mug on the table.

Lorelai's eyes twinkled with glee at the opening he'd unwittingly provided. "Please Sir--"

She seemed well prepared to go on a full 'Oliver' rendition, and Luke looked horrified at the idea of her breaking into song in the middle of the diner. He knew better than to let Lorelai get started like that. She'd probably never stop – make that _definitely_ never stop.

He cut her off quickly. "Don't go there. I'll get you the damn coffee."

Lorelai didn't think she'd seen anyone leave a table quite that fast before. She took a moment to smirk at him marching back and forth behind the counter collecting mugs, plates and stacking up anything that wasn't pinned down. He really did know how to distract himself when the moment called for it. A rare talent, she was sure.

Miss Patty chose that moment to pounce on her, drawing her attention away from Luke and his frenzied pacing. "Oh my God! Are you okay?"

Patty's sympathy was genuine and the exuberant dance teacher questioned her unendingly on her leg and then proceeded to introduce her to the trials and tribulations of dance class injuries, which as it turned out were even more common than yoga injuries. The whole discussion was making her dislike athletic events more and more as the minutes went on. Who knew there were that many ways to damage yourself doing something so seemingly sedentary? She was never letting Rory take up ballet again, that was for sure.

Lorelai was almost relieved when her cell phone went off. She excused herself quietly.

She didn't even get the chance to answer. "You are ze bane of my life." Michel's clipped French accent came out just as condescendingly on the phone.

"I do live to make you crazy Michel," she glanced quickly up at the counter, but Luke didn't seem to have noticed her open flouting of the establishment rules. It wasn't as if she was in a position for him to kick her out anyway, she figured she'd get away with it. She decided she may just have found yet another broken leg bonus.

"Eet ees not a quality to be proud of!" He huffed with impatience. "The boiler is dead, zees place is like Alaska without ze pretty scenery. Eef dere were penguins, my life would be complete."

"We have a back-up generator Michel. It was made with this kind of disaster in mind."

"That would be wonderful, but no one can find eet. Zee imbeciles who work 'ere need a map to find the reception. Finding a boiler ees like asking zem to undertake astro-physics."

"Draw them a map and pretend it's a trip to the north pole, show them yourself, pick one, and do it."

"Zey might touch me!"

Michel's horrified exclamation did nothing more than make her smirk grow wider. "You have my permission to shower afterwards if you must."

He seemed to take that as an offence, and hung up on her. She tucked her cell phone back into her bag.

It was amazing. One morning without her and Michel was already about to have an aneurism. She was almost sad she was missing out on the drama firsthand. Torturing the neurotic Frenchman was way more fun than it first appeared. She had spent her first week of employment at the Independence Inn moving his bookings ledger six inches to the left every day. He was convinced that it was the bellboy's doing. Lorelai had never corrected him, and the poor kid had spent the entire summer he'd worked there hiding from the enraged Frenchman. She almost felt bad for him. Not bad enough to come forward, but at least the thought was there.

The day she'd been promoted over Michel was a day of much rejoicing. Being able to tell him what to do was a power trip like none other, and he absolutely hated it. He also loved to drive her crazy with ridiculous requests and useless questions, like boiler positioning, which she knew damn well he was aware of.

She was broken out of her train of thought by Luke, who was suddenly standing in front of her table. "Why are you still here?"

Lorelai gestured at her leg, "Because the perils of group sporting activities have rendered me immobile and unable to run the inn."

"So you're going to sit here all day?" He raised an eyebrow at her in question.

Lorelai grinned broadly. "That would drive you nuts wouldn't it?"

"Probably."

"Then I'm sitting here all day." She drew out the syllables of all in emphasis, a grin adorning her face. She then proceeded to delve into her purse pulling out a rolled up Cosmo to keep her entertained.

"Wonderful."

"Hey, Mr. Monosyllables, why don't I feel the love?"

"Be real good and I'll find some for you later," he retorted marching back to the counter.

Lorelai grinned broadly as he walked away. Yep, this was definitely shaping up to be an entertaining day. She had to wonder though if the slight dizziness she was feeling was leftover from the painkillers she'd taken first thing this morning, or a direct effect of the dull ache still radiating up her shin. Yes, that was why she was beaming like a loon. It had nothing to do with Luke and his love, absolutely nothing. She'd known him long enough to call him a friend, but that was it. The relationship was strictly platonic, and that was the way it would stay. She was fine with that, definitely completely fine with that.

She distracted herself, directing her gaze straight down to the magazine in front of her. What better to keep her occupied than…'Top 10 ways to please your Man.' Okay fine, way to rub it in, just the kind of article to make the man-less bitter.

Lorelai flicked the page over violently when Luke passed the table with a couple of empty plates. She wasn't sure why, it wasn't like he was going to care.

"Nice reading material," he deadpanned.

She looked back down, while her page-turning had done well at hiding the '10 ways' article, it had also done a stellar job of displaying the 'before and after breast implants' on the other side.

Ugh. Damnit.

Rory was right, she should have grabbed InStyle. It had far less embarrassment potential.

She'd always proclaimed she was immune to embarrassment. You can't embarrass the shameless. It wasn't strictly true. They just didn't like to admit to it. Ever.

Sighing she looked down at her now very empty plate, and decided she needed more sustenance. If she was going to keep sitting here, she should at least have food and coffee in front of her.

Luke meanwhile, had disappeared. Probably hiding in the storeroom, upstairs or cooking something. Just like him to be conveniently out of range when she wanted him.

"Hey, Luke." She called over her shoulder, hoping that maybe he was out of vision, but not out of hearing. Lorelai paused, waiting for a response. "Luke!"

"Luke, Luke, Luke, Luuuke!" When his name was starting to lose meaning to her and the calls elicited no response, she pulled out a crutch, poking a blonde girl sitting at the end of the counter.

"Hi. Could you maybe, pass me a muffin?" The girl gave her an odd look, hesitated for a moment, and followed her instructions. "Lemon, please."

Luke chose that moment to walk out of the back, catching Lorelai's unsuspecting helper lifting the lid of the muffin tray. "Hey, what--"

The girl raised her hands in surrender and sent a pleading look at Lorelai. It didn't take him long to work out where this was leading. He gave Lorelai a meaningful look.

"Well! You we're ignoring me," she huffed.

He brought over the muffin for her himself. "You're high maintenance. Anyone ever tell you that?"

"All part of my charm." She saw him glance surreptitiously at the clock. He was probably counting the minutes left until he could tell her she'd been sat there for three hours. She wasn't far off. "I'm going for a record today. Don't think you're getting rid of me yet." Lorelai failed to mention the dull ache still building in her leg, he didn't need to know.

Luke just rolled his eyes and wandered off. It wasn't like the diner was particularly busy, so she may as well just sit there. It was his 'mid-morning lull' as Kirk reminded him every time Luke kicked him out after spending an hour at a table just to eat his patty melt and a glass of orange juice. Somehow he would much rather have Lorelai sat in the diner for hours at a time, than Kirk. Odd, that.

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Lorelai moved her leg across the floor, hissing in pain. This was an official reminder from her body to her head to take her pain meds, which of course weren't with her. That really was a clever move. In her head she could picture them on the kitchen counter. They were right there beside the coffee pot where she'd left them after taking a couple earlier that morning. The whole lost-item-visualisation skill didn't really help her right now, but at least she knew where they were... if she ever managed to traverse the town and get back to her kitchen that was.

This was only going to get worse, which meant unless she wanted to be in extreme pain for the rest of the day, she was making her way back home. She was seriously considering amputation as an alternative right now. Luke probably kept a meat cleaver in the back somewhere, right?

She gripped the edge of the table, shifting her leg out of the way, her knuckles turning white at the ferocity of her grasp. One little baby-step at a time, was the only way this was going to get done. It was like little stabbing needles in her leg. Not an experience she would wish on anyone. It was like having several hundred small rodents poking her repeatedly with rapiers. Now she was having flashbacks from a children's book she'd read with Rory when she was six. That was never a good sign.

Finally putting her weight on the leg she nearly didn't stay upright, the intense shooting pain up her leg wasn't going away anytime soon. She bent almost double eyes screwed shut for a moment as if that would help somehow. Lorelai was left considering if she'd actually be able to make it home without passing out. It was she decided, pretty hit and miss, and if she missed she'd probably end up lying face down in a muddy, slushy, once-was-snow puddle half-way down Peach. It was just the way her week was going so far.

"You cannot walk home like that." Lorelai looked up from the grey linoleum, which she had been staring blankly at in the hopes it would supply her with a plan, and was immediately met with the sight on Luke's crotch at eye level. She jerked back upright at lightning speed. Then cursed herself for it just moments later. Both because it jarred her hip re-igniting her friendly shooting pain and because she hadn't even had the chance to get a good close look while she could blame pain and insanity. What? She couldn't be just a little bit shallow?

"Mice with swords, mice with swords," Lorelai muttered to herself, squeezing her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the pain, and regain some sense of balance. Balance, that was what got her into this predicament in the first place. There were just not enough words in the English language that expressed how much this sucked. Maybe she should get her ears checked. They had something to do with balance. "Do you know a good ENT specialist?"

"You cannot confuse me out of this, you can barely stand." Ignoring him Lorelai walked her hands slowly across the table, still using it to support her weight. "Stop that." He grabbed her waist, stilling her surprisingly effectively.

Luke kept his hands on her hips eyeing her with disbelief. "You are not walking home like this." He certainly was determined, she'd give him that.

She bit her lip against the pain, shifting her leg and gripping his forearm with a free hand. Nice arm. "You kidding? I'll be like Tarzan, swinging from lamppost to telephone wire, crossing puddles in single bounds. Never doubt m--" She gasped, and leaned down fully onto the table again, using it as a prop on her way to the door and wincing noticeably as she did so. Luke's hands went back to her waist to steady her. "The happy pain-massacring pills are at home. I need to be home. This is for your own safety, I promise."

"--and _this_ is for your safety. Don't argue."

Giving in on a fight was definitely not the Gilmore way. Under normal circumstances Lorelai would in her element right now. She could keep up verbal sparring with Luke for hours if necessary. It was enjoyable. He could often keep up with her complete non-sequitors where many others couldn't. Her pop-culture references went totally over his head, but you can't have everything. She had come to the conclusion that there was no such thing as the perfect guy. You couldn't have it all in the one nice neat man-package. Ooh. Man-package. Dirty.

"Sit." Luke grunted, pointing at the nearest free seat. "Give me a minute here, and I will drive you home. I would rather you didn't die of hypothermia between here and home, might lay into my conscience."

Lorelai sighed, the trademark Gilmore obstinacy had been officially worn down. The combination of the pain, and Luke's stubborn insistence that she was incapable of doing a simple thing like walking the five minutes to her home had done to her what nothing else had done before. "—But" she started feebly; trailing off before she'd really thought of what she was intending to follow it up with.

"Sit."

She grudgingly followed his orders. The idea of standing on that leg was getting less and less appealing by the moment. Plus she wasn't really up for the argument that objecting would obviously result in.

Stupid yoga. Stupid mice.


	2. and the rest

Title: Yoga Kills

Rating: PG

Luke had never actually been into Lorelai's house before. It was an experience like none other. He'd already nearly tripped in a large pothole in her drive - she claimed was caused by gophers but was more likely due to the missing concrete slab that seemed to be propping the garage door closed - and grabbed the porch rail only to have it almost come away in his hand. The place was like the house of horrors.

"I'm fixing that tomorrow." Luke muttered, letting Lorelai use him as her personal leaning post as they maneuvered their way up the steps. The crutches had long since been abandoned as they hindered more than they helped at this point.

"You can do that? You work in a diner."

"I'm multifaceted, what can I say? I flip, I fry, I mend porches... your garage door could do with some looking at too." He could see already that this property could easily keep him busy for several years if he felt the inclination to fix all the little flaws he kept noticing.

"So handy. Ow." Lorelai winced again letting go of him momentarily and leaning back against a more stable part of the front of her house. It seemed the secure parts were pretty few and far between.

"It was real gentlemanly of you to escort me home like this," Lorelai grinned through the pain, motioning him back towards her so she could lean on him to get to the door. "How much did Rory pay you? If she broke into my pirate chest for this she's so grounded."

"No, no monetary bribes except that you two are two of my best customers, I like you in one piece.

"You only like me because my caffeine dependency keeps you in veggie burgers and spinach?" Lorelai sighed dreamily; "You just blow me away with the complements."

"I try," Luke grunted, still trying to support her as she fumbled around in her purse for her keys. It seemed to take her several times longer to do something simple like that than any normal person.

Trying to ignore her proximity was virtually impossible. Her hair brushed against his neck with every movement she made, wafting cinnamon-y scent to his nose. Her fingertips dug into his shoulder blade as she gripped him in order to remain upright. Logically he knew she clung to him for reasons of stability and pain alone, but he couldn't stop his mind from wandering.

"Crap. No keys." Lorelai huffed out a long breath, "bad, bad, bad ow."

Luke stared at her in amazement. "How can you not have your keys?"

She screwed he eyes shut in apparent pain and her grip on his shoulder tightened uncomfortably. Lorelai had a surprisingly firm grip. "Uh, left 'em somewhere."

"You--" Luke huffed out a breath in frustration, trailing off. Just great.

"Jeremy," she blurted, raising a hand triumphantly.

"What?"

"Uh, the turtle just over there on the window sill. That's Jeremy," Lorelai explained.

"Does Jeremy know where your house keys are?"

"No, he's a china turtle." Lorelai gave him a 'duh!' look and continued. "He has a key in him."

"Can we stop referring to him in the third person? He isn't sentient and honestly it's little creepy." Luke made sure that she had a decent leaning position against the wall then set about getting Jeremy to give up the house key.

"Do I have to tell you how dangerous leaving your key just outside your front door is, and that you're encouraging thieves?"

"No."

Luke finally released the key from its hiding place. "If I did tell you, would it make even the slightest difference?"

"Eh, probably not."

"Okay then."

Luke unlocked the door quickly, and helped Lorelai into the hallway. The house was definitely what he would describe as eclectic. Still it was certainly very homey and every inch screamed of her feminine influence. All of the surfaces he could see were covered with nick-knacks of varying sizes and styles, and there were photos in frames lined up along the mantle of Rory and Lorelai at various points in their lives. He dropped the key onto the table beside the phone and aided Lorelai's movement towards the centre of the room.

Once near enough to the sofa Lorelai flopped bonelessly onto the piece of furniture in question with a quiet 'Oof' then a second later an even more muffled 'ow'. "Hey, could you grab the magic pills from the kitchen?" She pointed vaguely across the hall and Luke turned to go on a painkiller search. "They're on the counter by the coffee maker."

After stepping over what seemed like several thousand assorted pairs of shoes and a large cardboard box of books, Luke found the kitchen. The bottle of vicodin was pretty easy to locate once he'd worked that out. There were several take-out menus magnetised to the fridge and a post-it with the phone number of someone called Chris on it.

"You realise that saucepans aren't really supposed to be used as planters, right?" Luke queried, as he made his way back to the sitting room and handed the bottle to Lorelai.

"They looked pretty, and weren't getting any use as saucepans. I don't make sauce."

"I have no idea how you've managed to survive this long."

"Pop-tarts, take-out and red vines are a winning combo," Lorelai informed him in delight, already knowing exactly what he thought of their daily diet.

"That's disgusting, and I reiterate what I said before. That stuff will kill you."

"Hasn't had a detrimental effect as yet. I live to contradict the norm." Lorelai gestured at herself with the bottle, and continued as another thought hit her. "You do realise that over 50 of the food I eat is cooked by yourself. Therefore if I die, it's mostly your fault."

"That's lovely, just what I want on my conscience."

She grinned, "It has a certain poetic irony I think."

"Take the damn medication."

"Why Luke, do you want me drugged so you can--?"

"If you take the pills, do you shut-up?"

Lorelai considered this for a moment. Bearing in mind that once she'd taken them the night before she'd been out like a light in ten minutes flat... Rory had been forced to leave her in the middle of the living room floor for most of the evening because she couldn't move her. "Yes."

"Then yes, I do want you drugged."

Lorelai gave him a mock shocked look. "That's just mean."

She downed the little white capsules along with a slurp of the water then continued. "These are some kick ass painkillers let me tell you. Knock you out like that," she snapped her fingers in emphasis.

"Then should you not, I don't know, take them when you're upstairs?"

"If I do that, I'll never get back down here again. You have conveniently stolen my crutches, for God knows what evil mastermind plan. If I go up there I won't have food, nor will I have the joys of the VCR. I'll get bored, and that is just downright dangerous. If I need the bathroom I might have to crawl up there — I'll deal with that when it happens. Oh, if I was up there then slide down the banisters or down the stairs on my ass, which while fun will just give me carpet burn. It's probably not worth it."

Luke rolled his eyes at her. "Down here it is... Do you at least have blankets or anything?"

"Uh, upstairs." She smiled pleadingly, and Luke nodded. He had an inkling that he knew who was getting her things from upstairs. "Blankets are on the bed, and grab a shirt and sweatpants if you can."

"Right," Luke had started a mental list of the things she had asked for before realising exactly where he would have to go to do all of this.

"Thanks Luke, Mother Teresa ain't got nada on you." Lorelai grinned, lounging back against the arm of the couch.

Luke wasn't sure whether he should take the comparison between himself and an eighty-odd year old woman as a complement or not. Saint or no saint she was still twice his age and female.

He entered her bedroom with a strange sense of caution. It felt oddly like entering a church, everyone thinks it's pretty and special but doesn't want to touch anything. It's sacrosanct. It was an odd comparison, but it worked somewhere in the recessed of his head.

He cautiously folded the blanket and duvet from the bed, the whole place smelled of her. Weird that, considering it was her room, he reminded himself sarcastically. He pushed the idea of Eau de Lorelai from his head and nasal passages and glanced around the room looking for the clothes she'd requested.

There wasn't anything on any of the surfaces that seemed to fit the criteria. He was pretty certain she wasn't going to want to wear a red top with sequins and straps, nor jeans, and the scarf was out. Then again, what did he know about Lorelai's sleep-clothing habits. She could sleep in a clown costume for all he knew. He hoped to God she didn't, because the thought was a little disturbing, but she might do.

He stepped towards her chest of drawers hesitantly. It still seemed wrong to go poking around in her things, despite the fact she'd asked him to get the stuff for her, and logically he knew he was crazy for finding it weird. It didn't stop him from feeling highly awkward as he pulled open the drawer.

He dug a hand around, figuring that maybe if he didn't look it was better. Grabbing the nearest T-shirt he could feel and some sweat pants he quickly closed the drawer again. He folded them both roughly and took the blanket from the bed before going back down to see to the comfort of the invalid.

When he got back down the stairs Lorelai was stretched out across the couch in what looked like a seriously uncomfortable position with her eyes closed.

Wow, they really were fast acting.

Luke sat on the coffee table opposite her and watched for a moment, considering his options. He could leave her like that, and let her wake up with a dead-leg and a neck crick or he could venture nearer and reposition her. His bolder side took hold in that moment of thought and he moved to try and shift her so she looked a little less awkward.

She was still dressed for outside in late-December and leaving her asleep on her couch in boots (or more precisely one boot) and a thigh length winter coat didn't seem quite right.

He eased the shoe off her foot placing it with the other of the pair in the hallway and started to roll her to remove the coat. She was light, but even so shifting dead-weight was never easy so he leaned her torso against his thigh as he carefully tried to extricate her from what had to be the most awkward and complicated coat that man could make.

As he rolled her back her hand landed on his wrist, fingers wrapping around his forearm and gripping on. Luke paused, thinking that perhaps she wasn't in quite such a deep sleep as he had believed. When she didn't make any more movement he sighed in relief and pried her fingers from his arms one by one praying she'd just stay asleep so he wouldn't have to avoid the how's and why's of him removing her clothes, however innocent.

Luke rolled her the opposite direction to remove the other arm from the jacket and eased it out from beneath her body placing it over the back of a nearby chair. He went back to her, tucked a strand of hair that had strayed across her face behind her ear and started to move away across the room. In the end he decided to sit in the armchair nearby. Picking up a magazine from the table, he looked over at her periodically, and kept telling himself it was just so he could make sure her leg didn't go green and fall off, or something equally distressing and possibly life threatening. She might get gangrene or something.

Yep. That was it.

Once he was sure she was all settled, was bored of the article about someone else's love life and realised that Rory would be back to check on her in the next hour or so, he scrawled a brief note which he stuck to the coffee table then watched her for a long moment.

Then he began to feel like a stalker, and left. Caesar would be wondering what the hell had happened to him anyway.

When Luke arrived with a couple of burgers and several donuts later that evening the door was open. He decided he really shouldn't be as surprised as he was. The Gilmore's habit of leaving doors unlocked or even just open was not one he thought was going to be changing anytime soon.  
He knocked on the doorframe and called out before making his way into the living room proper. Lorelai was sprawled out on the sofa watching the cooking channel. It seemed ridiculous considering her complete lack of any form of culinary motivation. Then again, perhaps Sookie's influence was finally rubbing off on her.

Lorelai sat up hastily when he entered. "Sustenance, oh you truly are a God. What do you want your altar made of? Gold? Platinum? I think I have a few empty soda cans on the porch… I'll make an effigy of you out of leeks and couscous."

Luke chose to ignore her. "You're watching the Food Channel?"

"I'm bored, delusional; I might bribe someone who can actually cook into making this stuff for me." She shrugged, "Hey. You cook. Do you do gourmet?"

"Where's Rory," Luke asked, placing the paper bag of food on the table in front of Lorelai.

"Lane's. Apparently the imminent arrival of the Kim Clan involves a lot of preparation. She's helping Lane scrub and polish and re-alphabetise their Bible collection so the place looks nice and Christian."

"Sounds… thrilling." Luke responded, sarcasm lacing his words. Honestly, Mrs Kim made him nervous. He didn't think he'd ever actually set foot inside her shop, and if he could avoid it, he never would. She tried to give him a flier about fast food and it being the devil's way once, and the darkness in her stare would have killed a lesser man on the spot.

"Sounds like Hell, which is ironic really considering every time I set foot in that house that's where Mrs Kim tells me I am bound for. I told her that at least I'd get a good tan there once, and Lane tells me she's been praying for my soul nightly ever since."

Lorelai leaned forwards and pulled the burgers out of the bag with a smile, a smile which widened on discovery of a smaller bag of donuts. "Oh you do know me… and with sprinkles, yay."

"The second one was actually for Rory, but…" he shrugged.

"C'mon, eat with me. Make me feel like a little less of a loser." He made as if to refuse, so she continued. "At least this way I can say 'Hey, I had dinner with a man on Monday night.' Make all the girls at the Inn jealous of my stellar social life. Plus, I don't think one burger is going to change your life expectancy one iota."

Luke sighed, defeated and dropped onto the couch beside her. Honestly he didn't take much persuasion when it came to her. He didn't like to question the whys, it just made him uncomfortable. He didn't generally let anyone hold that much power over him. Somehow Lorelai seemed to wield it, and he didn't really mind much.

He turned his attention to the show on the TV as distraction. "What're you watching?"

"Delia Smith. She's British, and she cooks. It's the combo of a lifetime. There's an anthem that I created in deference of her. I'll save you from having to listen to it, but let me tell ya, she is totally deserving of my ultimate love."

Luke nodded in silence, thankful for the small favours that saved him from having to endure the Delia-Love song. She appeared to be conjuring up some kind of soufflé, and give her, her due it did look appetising.

"So 'Porn Star' huh?"

"What?" Luke jerked his attention away from the television and the repetitive whipping onscreen and onto Lorelai in mild shock. She sure knew how to ladle out the total non-sequitors.

She raised an eyebrow in amusement, and pointed at the glittery lettering across the front of her shirt. The shirt he'd collected for her. Lorelai's smirk grew at the horrified look on his face. "Nice choice."

Aw geez. How had he not noticed that before? Why must the woman have such provocative T-shirts? "Do you not have any normal clothing?"

"Oh, now what would the fun in that be? I have a pair of sweat pants with 'brat' stamped on the ass somewhere around. I should wear this into Stars Hollow. See if Taylor arrests me for public lewdness or something. That would be festive."

Luke just grunted. He wasn't entirely sure what the appropriate response to that particular statement was. In truth she was probably right, but he wasn't about to agree with her. Anything that drove Taylor up the wall was a guaranteed hit with him.

There was a lull in their conversation in which he put all his attention into the television, and Delia's latest culinary delight — some kind of risotto.

"Hey Luuuke, you know how you're all manly and strong an' all…"

Luke could sense already where this was leading. "What do you want?"

"Who said I wanted something?" Lorelai asked, attempting her best innocent expression.

"I recognise the tone, you want something."

Lorelai scoffed, "There's no tone."

"Out with it."

She paused before answering; it seemed she'd been busted after all. "It's not big or anything… well, actually it is big, but only in the literal sense. It's like a five minute job for someone as talented as yourself…"

"Lorelai just spit it out."

"Dirty."

"Lorelai--"

"You think you could change our water bottle?"

"Now I know why you're being flattering."

Lorelai attempted to defend herself, "I'm always flattering," she stated.

"Do you know how much less hassle there'd be if you didn't drink your water from a giant hamster bottle?"

"But then I wouldn't get to prevail on the strong and handsome young men of this fine town to flex their muscles in front of me changing it."

Luke got the sense that there was some more flattery buried in her ramble, and that it was probably a hint to just get on with it. Her way with words, and ability to get him to do things for her was rearing its head once more.

He sighed, "Fine. Is there a dishtowel in your kitchen?"

"There's a reason we eat out. No washing up."

Luke thought back to the state of her kitchen. It looked like possibly the least-used kitchen he'd ever been in. "Right, silly me."

"The bottle's on the porch outside the back door and actually, I think there's some paper towel on the counter next to the stove…" She gasped and grinned triumphantly, "You could totally be the paper towel guy! I just found your calling."

"That'll do." Luke ignored her final comment and started to leave the room, then turned back as he reached the doorway. "Try not to do anything crazy in the next five minutes."

"Pffft. Never."

-------------------------------

PS. The Delia anthem? Is totally courtesy of my aunt. It goes something along the lines of 'We love you Delia. Oh yes we do, etc.' It has a tune and everything.


	3. Towards the weekend

Lorelai had managed to work herself into some semblance of routine already. It had been four days since 'The Incident in Yoga Class'. Rory insisted that an event of such magnitude must be capitalised - something to do with dramatic flair in storytelling apparently. She and Lane had attempted to write song lyrics about her recent brush with death. Their dedication to the subject was interrupted however the moment the Kim relatives invaded and monopolised all of Lane's time (and a certain amount of Rory's) with something bizarre and religious they were planning. Lorelai didn't fully understand it, and was perfectly happy to keep it that way. If Rory wanted to keep Lane company, that was just fine and dandy. Lorelai however had decided long ago that Seventh Day Adventists were a weird bunch and to be avoided if at all possible.

She had recently acquired a new and strangely willing personal slave in Luke. Lorelai supposed it was because he felt bad for her and didn't want her to die of starvation and pain, maybe he was just bored. Either way, if she didn't drag herself out to the diner at least once before 5pm he'd turn up on her doorstep with a large paper bag of food, and a super sized take-out cup of coffee.

Luke probably hadn't intended the kind gesture to make her less willing to visit the diner, but that was still the end result. If she didn't go to him, Luke came to her and that was preferable by far in Lorelai's opinion. If he came to her she could easily persuade him to hang out with her, which gave her both someone to talk to _and_ food all in the comfort of her own living room. It was a win-win situation.

Rory dumped her book bag on the floor in the hallway along with a large bag of what looked very much like rocks, but were probably Mrs. Kim's latest organic baking triumph. That meant that they would also taste very much like rocks. The music was blaring, and it took quite a lot of yelling before Lorelai even realised there was anyone else in the room and used the remote on the arm of the couch to turn the volume down.

"What did you do?" Rory stopped in her tracks then made her way around the back of the sofa in an attempt to work out just what she was looking at. It was obviously the 'Arts and Crafts' stage of boredom that Lorelai was entering.

"It's really dull around here without you. You realise that there are one hundred and thirty seven cracks in the ceiling of the sitting room alone?"

Rory raised an eyebrow, "I did not know that. Why do you know that?"

"I got bored."

"Ah," Rory nodded in understanding. "So I see …is that the Armada?" She cocked her head to one side to make a closer examination of the ship.

"Titanic."

"Figures. Did you eat all those popsicles just to make the Titanic?" Rory was perfectly used to this kind of display, ever since she'd come home to find her mother had discovered pipe-cleaners, and the many varied joys of making pipe-cleaner people. Rory had the distinct impression that not all of the scenario's Lorelai had created should be viewed by those under 18.

Lorelai grinned broadly, "and a packet of chocolate rolls so I could use the wrappers as a sail. This activity was both fattening and entertaining."

"Well, that's a relief," Rory snagged the packet from the table and fished one out for herself.

"See Leonardo DiCaprio and Kate Winslet on the front there? I couldn't simulate the wind without a possibly disastrous venture into the garage for that fan. I decided realism could wait."

"They bear a striking resemblance, and I agree on the issue of the wind. The penguin on the iceberg is a nice touch."

"I thought so. How was school?"

"A bunch of the seniors played a prank with some sheep. A 'first day back' rebellion, or something. One of them ate half of Paige Summerlin's gym shoes then threw up white guk all over the locker room. I think that was very sensible of it. Feet aren't very sanitary."

Lorelai pulled a face, "Ew."

"If a scene from Babe and that one with all the head-spinning from The Exorcist had a love child, it would look like that." Rory took a bite of her chocolate roll, apparently disgusting imagery didn't affect her appetite in the least.

"Got the newsflash already. Ew. Move on."

"Oh, and we helped paint a canvas mural for the Stars Hollow Chinese New Year party. I am officially all glittered out."

"Isn't the point of a mural that you paint it directly on the wall?"

"According to Taylor that isn't a mural. It's graffiti."

Lorelai nodded, not bothering to fight Taylor's slightly neurotic logic. "Do we have a large contingent of Chinese people in Stars Hollow?"

"There are four. Apparently we should all be more multicultural, and this is where it all starts."

"—and the celebration is…"

"On Sunday," Rory finished. "Be there or be square. Don't forget your Lycee."

"Bless you."

Rory ignored her, "Are we going to Luke's for food?"

Lorelai had turned her attention back onto her day's work. "Nope," she responded, repositioning her stick figures, and tugging the sail back into shape.

"Al's?" When there was no response Rory continued, "Want me to call for Pizza?"

Lorelai shook her head, an unexplained smile gracing her features.

Rory huffed out a breath in frustration. "Are we going to sit here and starve?"

"No, we're going to sit here and wait for Luke's to come to us. It's just like magic! Mohammed and his mountain would be proud."

"That could take a while. It's two blocks, and diners aren't exactly known for their athletic ability."

Lorelai peered past Rory at the flashing numbers on the Hello Kitty alarm clock on the mantle. "You've been hanging out at Lane's too much lately. You've been missing out."

"Why?" Lorelai waved a hand at her to shush her.

"Three, two… one," Lorelai lifted a finger and right on cue a loud knocking echoed through the house. "Right on time."

"Time for what?"

"Luke's. Get the door for me will ya."

"I didn't know Luke did delivery."

"Oh, he doesn't. We're special. Ain't that a kick? The last two days, 5 O'clock on the dot. He's very up with punctuality. I like it. Door, go-go-go!"

"I can't believe you have the man trained to bring you food." Rory yelled over her shoulder as she finally made her way to the front door.

"I didn't need to train him, he came housebroken. How great is that?"

Luke stepped over the bags in the doorway, dodging items on the floor was beginning to be second nature. He was definitely a quick learner. "Who came housebroken?"

Lorelai covered seamlessly, "My house-elf. I am Harry Potter, minus the scar and the disturbing past."

"Well that's good to know." Luke deadpanned, dropping the bag into her outstretched arms.

"You know Luke, I could've-- " Rory stopped herself half-way when Lorelai made slashing motions across her neck behind Luke's back. "--really done with some… pie." Rory stuttered out the last part, and watched as Lorelai nodded approvingly.

"This is really great of you Luke," Lorelai added starting to poke around inside the bag.

Luke shrugged, as if to say 'no problem'.

"Hey, there might be some soda in the fridge," Lorelai grinned at him, hoping he'd take the initiative and go get it.

He sighed, "I'll go get it for you." Yup, Luke knew when to take a hint.

"Thanks, Luke!"

Rory poked her in the shoulder, "You're shameless," she accused.

"He has his own free will. I did nothing! I wanted to learn brainwashing, but I got pregnant and dropped out of High School before I could take that class. Snooty schools excel in brainwashing."

"I am capable of walking down to Luke's to get us food."

Lorelai sighed, "Ah, but you, however hard you may try, just don't look as good in plaid." She started pulling items out of the bag, and laying them out on the table in readiness.

"Again, shamelessly--"

"Enjoying being waited on is no bad thing."

Rory continued, completely ignoring her, "Flirting with the proprietor. At least you really shoot for the top."

Lorelai scoffed, "I do not flirt with Luke."

"Oh, you do." Rory flopped down on the couch beside her mother and took the proffered burger, "I'm not stupid."

"I learned that the moment you started reading Moby Dick when you were seven. Most third graders steer clear of whale massacre."

"It wasn't whale massacre, it's a classic, and that is so not the point of this conversation."

"I don't think conversations have points. They strike me as very round fluffy things. Can you move the Titanic for me?"

Rory leaned forward and moved the popsicle stick boat from the coffee table to the floor, still not deterred. "You and Luke…"

"There is no me and Luke."

Rory snorted, a lady-like snort, but it was there. "Yeah, there is."

"This conversation is officially over." Lorelai was an expert at avoidance tactics. Years of her mother had taught her invaluable skills, Rory was an amateur in comparison to Emily. She wouldn't have to try too hard.

"Uh, hi Cleopatra."

Lorelai started talking gobbledegook at a very high pitch just as Luke came back from the kitchen. Rory had her hands over her ears and was yelling something about 'when to stop rowing' and the Nile.

Luke frowned, but made no comment. The last six-months had taught him that it's better to either go with whatever insanity is taking place, or pretend it doesn't even exist. In this case, he went with ignorance.

When Lorelai saw him approach she took a deep breath and turned her attention firmly to the ground. This whole situation was ridiculous. Rory was only kidding, right? It didn't mean anything. Everyone knew she liked her food. A smaller voice in her head tried to squawk something about that making them a perfect match. She suppressed it firmly.

He placed two sodas on the table in front of the girls, and took a closer look at the TV screen which was paused on a pre-movie advert. "What's the film of the evening?"

Lorelai took a steadying breath, choosing to pretend the last couple of minutes hadn't happened. "Love Story. It's a heart rending tale of Love and Death, we'll both be bawling like toddlers by the end. You wanna watch?"

Luke looked a little disturbed at the very idea. "I think--"

"Come on Luke! It's a classic." Rory waved a hand across the table in front of them. "We have so much food, and there's a spare chair right there who really wants a friend."

Lorelai jumped in, "If you stay I promise I will eat something green, of your choosing…"

Rory turned to her in surprise and hissed, "You will?" Lorelai gave her a 'yeah, right' look and turned back to Luke with a purposely hopeful expression on her face.

"What do you say?"

"I shouldn't. Caesar…"

Lorelai let out a long sigh, "can handle it," she finished for him and reached out to grab Luke's arm before he could move further away. "You gotta let loose once in a while Duke."

"You start calling me that again, I leave." Despite his words, he didn't make any indication that he intended to walk away.

Lorelai gripped tighter still. "No, Luke. I'm sorry. Duke has left the building, I swear. Come on."

"If I stay, will you stop cutting off all the blood circulation to my hand?"

Dropping his hand as if it had burned her Lorelai looked up at him sheepishly, "Sorry, and yes."

Luke dropped into the spare seat, and Rory watched her mother, who was shifting anxiously trying to get comfortable, in amusement.

Luke stretched, and let out a heartfelt; "Finally!" as the credits rolled.

"Finally? Where's your romantic side at Cool Hand?" Lorelai was looking a little watery-eyed, but quickly wiped her cheeks before turning to face him fully. She'd seen the movie God knows how many times, and it still had her crying at the end.

"I lost all memory of the concept around about a third of the way in."

"Seriously? I can't believe you, this is a beautiful movie."

"It's depressing."

"Not true!"

"Just as you're finally getting invested in the relationship and it's all working out, she dies. That's depressing."

Lorelai reached over and hit his forearm, shaking her head and allowing her fingers to trail along his wrist before she retracted her hand. "It's supposed to be romantic. They both found that perfect person to be with, if only for a short time. It's better to have loved and lost, and all that."

"Death is rarely romantic."

Lorelai shook her head in disbelief then peered over the cushions piled up between her and Rory. "Aaw, all that preparation for Lane's relatives obviously wore the kid out."

"You sure that movie didn't induce narcolepsy?"

"Shut yo' mouth, boy!"

There were a couple of long moments of silence, then, "Are you just going to leave her there?"

Lorelai shrugged, leaning over further in order to assess how deeply Rory was gone. The result came back as a resounding 'dead to the world'. "Unless you have a better plan - she gets cranky when her sleep is disrupted, something about not being able to concentrate the next day."

"If she sleeps on the couch she'll end up with a neck crick, which will also make her cranky and distracted."

"You want to move her, be my guest."

Luke looked seriously hesitant, but lifted her from the couch anyway, the ease with which he moved her made it look like she weighed nothing. Lorelai had given up carrying Rory around when she was about six, claiming weakness and fatigue. Luke seemed to have no such issues.

"Uh, where should I put her?" he whispered.

Lorelai gave him some vague directions including the phrase 'turn right at the Buddha', and Luke set off to find Rory's room.

By the time he got back to Lorelai had moved and was sat on the floor by the VCR rewinding the film, leg out at the most awkward angle he'd ever seen. That couldn't be comfortable. The grimace that appeared on her face at the smallest movement confirmed that thought.

"You still taking those painkillers?"

Lorelai shook her head. "As fun as they are… and they are pretty fun. I don't much like being that out of it. If something happened, or something went wrong, I would be zero use to Rory, and…" she trailed off and shrugged. "Anyway," Lorelai seemed to be dragging herself out of her brief serious moment. It was rare that she broke her constant stream of chatter and jokes. It was a quieter side she'd never really shown around Luke before. In their limited diner-based conversations she's never faltered from her sunny, comedic self. It was only in the last week or so they'd really broken into being anything more than just Diner man and customer.

Lorelai removed the video and shoved it back onto the coffee table, then looked up at him hopefully. "You feel like acting as a leaning post again?"

Luke didn't respond, just raised an eyebrow at her in confusion.

"My crutches are upstairs." She explained, pointing to the ceiling in clarification.

Luke rolled his eyes. Trust her. "How did you get down here?"

"Slid down the stairs. It's actually quite fun, very like tobogganing except you don't lose the feeling in your ass because of the cold."

"I thought you vetoed the carpet-sliding idea…"

"Yeah, then I changed my mind and decided it seemed like the best way to get down here without falling all the way down and landing in a very graceful heap at the bottom."

"For once I think you made a sensible choice."

Lorelai pouted, "I'm not sure if I should be offended by that comment or not."

Luke said nothing. She wasn't quite certain whether that was a good thing either. Then he slipped him arm around her back taking most of her weight, and helped her off the floor and towards the staircase. Now, that was definitely a good thing. No complaints from her. No siree.

As they mounted the last of the stairs, she caught the tip of her cast on the top step, stumbling awkwardly. Luke's arms were immediately looped tightly around her waist, and were, quite possibly, the only thing keeping her upright at that point. That, and the fact she was gripping fistfuls of his flannel shirt as if her life depended on it.

One of his large hands was now cupping her hip, supporting her, the other gripping the banister. Her eyes strayed to his hands, nice hands, big hands... big hands, big – no! Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. Rory's earlier speculation seemed to have turned a big 'I like Luke!' switch on somewhere in the vicinity of her brain, and now she couldn't seem to turn it off or tune it out anymore. It was blaring through loud and clear. Damn it.

His palm was now pinning her against him firmly, and the heat from his chest was seeping slowly through her shirt and into her skin.

"Are you going to move?" Her own words echoed around her head, sounding far breathier than she'd like. She wished the tingling sensation in her stomach would go away. It was seriously off-putting.

Luke seemed to consider it, keeping his eyes on hers. "You're standing on my foot."

"Oh," Lorelai gasped out, shifting her cast off his foot. Nice one, Gilmore. "I'm sorry, I'm-- ah."

His hand slipped from the curve of her hip, and moved round to support the small of her back once more as she tried to move.

She chuckled nervously, and babbled on in an attempt to salvage the situation. "You do seem to be doing a lot of carrying us Gilmore girls around lately. Is it just because you get to make a manly show of strength, or do you really like us?" Lorelai regretted the question almost as soon as it had left her lips. Her gaze dropped to the blue flannel on his shoulder almost immediately. It was several seconds before she took a deep breath, and met his eyes again.

Luke waited for a long moment, considering whether he should risk it or not. Then forged ahead, "What if I said it was a little of both…" he admitted.

A slow smile spread across Lorelai's face, and the number of butterflies under her ribcage seemed to suddenly increase exponentially in number as the space for breath in her lungs decreased.

"Good response," she told him quietly.


End file.
